


How it works

by Ehann



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ehann/pseuds/Ehann
Summary: “There’s something I don’t understand, Dean. Why, why would you do something so foolish like cast a spell to de-age yourself?”
“Oh, that wasn’t on purpose,” Dean said. “It was just supposed to put me in the state of mind to tell the truth. Um. I, uh, kinda having been trying to have this talk with you for, um. Awhile.”





	How it works

Cas couldn’t concentrate. The ancient manuscript sat neglected in front of him, while the angel idly tapped a pencil against the desk. Something…strange, Cas decided. Not a prayer exactly, and not exactly _longing_ either, just something vague and unfocused that happened to be tilting in his particular mental direction.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. The gentle tugging sensation felt almost familiar, but he couldn’t quite place whom it was coming from. _Dean_ , his mind whispered, but that clearly wasn’t right. When Dean prayed for him, it was like taking the lid off a supernova. Impossible to ignore, or just about so. Which was why he had always answered Dean’s prayers in those early years. This felt…gentle. Soft. And neither of those terms applied to Dean, generally speaking.

Still…. Cas considered. It wasn’t Dean, but what was the harm in just checking? He pushed his chair back and stood up. Opening the door to his ‘room’ he called out, “Dean? Sam?”

No one answered. Cas wandered through the Bunker to the kitchen. A yellow post it note was stuck to the refrigerator.

_Guys, heading into town to pick up some stuff.  
Text me if you need anything, Sam_

Lebanon, Kansas was by no means a city. The ‘big box’ stores were about an hour away. So Sam would be gone for some time most likely.

The tickle at the edge of his mind chose that moment to reassert itself, much stronger this time. It was starting to become tinged with fear. Frowning, Cas turned away from the note, and back down the hallway to Dean’s bedroom. He paused outside a moment, just …waiting. Listening. He rapped on the door three times. “Dean. May I come in?”

Shuffling, then silence.

“Dean? Are you all right?” Cas strained his ears, but _listened_ with his grace. There! The tugging at his grace was coming from inside Dean’s room. “Dean. I’m coming in.” The door was locked but it was a simple matter of will to twist the deadbolt with his grace.

Opening the door carefully, Cas entered. He squinted, searching the room for anything out of place. He went over to the small desk, eyeing the few pictures displayed. His gaze caught on an…ashtray? With trepidation, Cas prodded the ashes with a finger, before smelling them, and finally, tasting them. “Dean,” he called out to the seemingly empty room, trying to keep his tone from relaying his absolute annoyance. “Why are you doing truth spells on yourself?”

Silence answered him initially, but then…a whimper. Cas closed his eyes, wishing mightily for patience. Three steps had him bedside the bed, and he got down on his knees and peered under afraid of what he might find. Sure enough, Dean was under there all right. Cas recognized the brilliant green eyes peeping back at him, even though the face they belonged to looked somewhat…different. A young boy stared back at him, thumb in mouth and eyes wide open.  
Cas sighed, in spite of his best efforts. Yes, that was definitely Dean’s soul. No matter the time or place, Cas would always recognize it. Though somewhat brighter than usual, it pulsed at him nervously. Green eyes met his, blinking rapidly. Filling up and spilling over. _Oh, Dean._

“Dean,” he started carefully. “Do you know who I am?”

The boy nodded solemnly.

“Okay, that’s good. Who am I?” Cas tried to sound as encouraging as he could, while lying on the floor and peering under a bed.

Dean slowly removed his thumb from his mouth. “Cas,” he said in a voice so much higher than the angel was used to. The boy’s eyes filled up with tears again. “Cas,” he said plaintively, “I needed you but you weren’t _here_!”

_But I’ve been here all day_ , Castiel thought, mystified. He tried a smile. “I’m here now, Dean. Why don’t you come out from under there, so we can talk?”

“I’m scared,” Dean said, after a moment. 

“I know you are, Dean. But it’s okay. I will keep you safe.” He nodded, then held out a hand. “Won’t you come out?”

Hesitating, the boy eventually nodded. Slowly he started inching toward Cas, scooching on his side so he didn’t have to look away. When he was close enough, he reached for Cas’s hand. “Can you pull me out?”

“Of course.” His fingers closed over the little ones in his grasp. Carefully—using just a little grace to ease the way—Cas helped Dean emerge from under the bed. He watched the boy settle on his knees. Cas stayed on the floor, merely shifting to a more comfortable position with his legs crossed.

The boy peered at Cas through a fringe of sandy hair. Then he scowled. Cas was hard pressed to not smile. Such a fierce expression on such a sweet looking little boy. Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Where were you!” he demanded.

“What?” Castiel widened his eyes. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

“You’re supposed to be _watching over me_ but you always _leave!_ ” 

Cas wasn’t sure if Dean was talking about something that had happened recently or years ago. However, apparently the boy had more to say.

“You’re _my_ angel!” Dean said firmly, glaring at Cas as if daring the older man to contradict him.

“I suppose that’s true, Dean,” Castiel said slowly. “In many ways, I _am_ your angel.” He kept his eyes fixed on Dean’s. “Does that make you my human?” he asked, with a gentle smile.

But Dean looked ready to spit fire. “ _Yes_ ,” he hissed. “You’re my angel; I’m your person, that’s how it works! That’s how it’s supposed to be!” He was looking genuinely upset now, like he couldn’t believe that Cas was being this stupid.

And Cas _did_ feel stupid. Because this was not news to _him_ , so why was _Dean_ so upset? He reached out carefully, making sure the boy didn’t flinch or lean away. He squeezed Dean’s shoulder gently, just like he normally did. “Dean,” he said finally. “Help me understand what’s making you upset. Are you angry with me?”

“Well I don’t want to be,” the boy cried. “But you keep _leaving_. And you’re supposed to stay with _me_.”

“I am?” Cas asked. Now this was startling. He’d thought sometimes that he was hanging on too close to the Winchesters in general, but Dean in particular. He always wanted to be useful, to be needed. And sometimes, he just left because he didn’t want Dean to tell him to go. If Cas left of his own volition, that was different from Dean making him leave. So Cas had been trying to make sure he gave Dean enough space. _Personal space_ , even, since that was important to him. But he never actually _wanted_ to leave!

Dean looked so miserable and alone that Cas couldn’t help what happened next. “Come here, Dean,” he said, and opened his arms.

Dean sniffed loudly, then wiped his nose on his shirt. Then he flung himself forward unsteadily. Cas caught him easily, and held him close. The boy coiled his arms around Cas’s neck, holding on tight, and hiding his face against Castiel’s shoulder. The angel turned his body so he was leaning back against the bedframe. He kept the boy wrapped in his arms. Eventually, a small whisper reached his ears. “Don’t you love me, even a little bit?”

Everything in Castiel’s grace lurched. _Dean! How can you possibly think--?_ “Of course I do!” Cas said, terribly hurt and confused. Only Dean’s current young age stopped Cas from shaking him and demanding he answer the same question. “And quite a lot more than ‘a little bit’” Castiel added bitterly.

Dean sat back, salty tracks evident on his cheeks. “You do?” he asked wonderingly. “Really?”

“Dean, _yes_ , of course I love you, how was that not obvious?”

“But then… _why_? Why do you always leave? If I love you, and you love me, and I’m your person –you said so, you can’t take it back—and you’re my angel –you can’t take that back _either_ —then how come you never _stay_ with me?” Dean sounded positively heartbroken.

“Dean.” He cupped the boy’s face with his palm. “Because I didn’t know you wanted me to stay.” Cas hesitated, then added gently, “The one time I tried to stay, you said—”

“NO CAS,” Dean shouted. “That doesn’t count! That doesn’t count because I still wanted you to stay, but Sammy woulda died!” He swallowed. “I never ever wanted to make you go. I promise.”

Cas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt like a heavy weight he’d been carrying for _years_ had just evaporated.

“I hate it when you’re gone,” Dean continued. “Everything feels awful and wrong.” He looked down.

Cas cleared his throat, which was tight for some reason. “I hate when I’m gone,” he said, tipping up Dean’s chin so the boy had to look at him. “Because everything feels awful and wrong.” He tugged Dean and the boy came easily, curling up to Castiel’s chest and tucking his chin over Cas’s shoulder.  
“There’s something I don’t understand, Dean. _Why_ , why would you do something so foolish like cast a spell to de-age yourself?”

“Oh, that wasn’t on purpose,” Dean said. “It was just supposed to put me in the state of mind to tell the truth. Um. I, uh, kinda having been trying to have this talk with you for, um. Awhile.”

The angel sighed. “And how long are you to stay like this?”  
Now it was Dean’s turn to heave out a big sigh. “A whole entire _day_.” His tone implied that was FOREVER.

“And will you remember what happened while you are…younger?” Cas asked.

Dean winced against Cas’s shoulder. “I…hope so?”

“Dean,” Castiel said, sounding long-suffering. “It is a good thing you are ‘my person’. I would be much less inclined to forgive anyone else for this.”

“Well, you’re my angel. You have to forgive me.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Yes, Cas. That’s how it works.”

 

 

XXX

 

_24 Hours Later_

Dean wasn’t exactly sure why he woke up on the floor next to his bed with a splitting headache. The last thing he remembered was igniting the ingredients for a spell…oh. He sat up gingerly, hips aching from laying on the floor.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean yelped and twisted around, finally spying the angel on his bed. “Heya, Cas. What are you doing in here?”

Cas sat on the edge of the bed. “As ‘your angel,’ I am supposed to be watching over you, Dean. That’s how it works. And you are ‘my person’, and your job is to let me watch over you.”

Dean just blinked at him. 

“Furthermore,” the angel continued, “I love you, and you love me. You are my person, and you can’t take it back. I am your angel, and I would never want to.”

“Really?” Dean asked hoarsely. “That’s really true?”

“It is,” Cas assured him. “So I’ll be staying here at the Bunker, Dean. Because without you—”  
Dean’s head tilted to the side, and a slow hopeful smile spread on his lips. “Everything feels awful and wrong?”

“Precisely,” Cas said. He opened his arms, but Dean swiftly stood and yanked him to his feet.

“Cas.” Dean said, laying a palm against the angel’s cheek. He leaned forward. Pressed his lips to Castiel’s. Then kissed him again. “Did you know? This is how it works.”

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please comment if you liked!


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